


Prayer for the whores

by Meelah



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Ass to Mouth, Blow Jobs, Cock Rings, Group Sex, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Piercings, Pre-Canon, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meelah/pseuds/Meelah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>According to World of Thedas II, Alexius found Dorian in "..a drunken stupor in a house of ill repute in the elven slums..." This is the story about the circumstances leading up to it.</p><p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt (and it got out of hand).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No life

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this for a kinkmeme prompt and it quickly evolved to a whole story. Sorry, the first chapter doesn’t deliver what the OP wanted but the next one will. I have all four chapters more or less planned and somewhat written, so I can promise I will deliver - however I don’t have much time to write so updates might or might not be regular. 2-3 weeks though for all 4 to be out? 
> 
> Non-con tag comes from the fact that Dorian has sex with slaves, who by definition cannot consent. If you’re cool with that you don’t have to worry, consent doesn’t get more icky than that.
> 
> Original kinkmeme prompt is [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/14614.html?thread=58045462#t58045462).

Dorian is drunk, and that's the way he wants it.

It allows him to forget, even if it is just for that moment, forget all about his father and the Circles and especially about the Order of fucking Argent. He isn't proud of how many Circles he's been to in the past 12 years and how many private tutors he's driven insane (his mother's words, not his) -- but what _had_ always been impressive was how his father was able to sweep all the rumours under the rug. Misconduct after misconduct, and even a few _sexual_ misconducts, yet Magister Pavus was able to contain the rumours. But even after all that Dorian had no illusions why the Order of Argent, the strictest and most exclusive of the Andrastian Circles, had accepted him.

 _Your last chance!_ His father yelled at him from the steps of their home in Qarinus, and his mother just stood there stone faced, probably drunk, as the First Enchanter came for Dorian all the way from Minrathous. The fact that it was the First Enchanter and not the Imperial Templars was an indication on just how much money had changed hands and the many strings Halward Pavus had needed to pull, and Dorian suspected that even he was starting to have difficulties cashing in any more favours.

Dorian left home with just the clothes on his back, clothes which were stored in his closet in the tiny room he had been given, not to be used again. Strict dress code inside the Circle was the to be adhered to, as well as the schedule starting with prayers before the sun was up, followed by hours of studies and training only to be broken up with more prayer and ascetic meals. Punishment for any sin was severe and Dorian spent a number of days in isolation until even kneeling down at the altar and repeating the Chant of Light ad nauseum started to sound perfectly reasonable alternative.

As days turned into weeks and then into months, Dorian started to lose himself. Under the eyes of the priests he was not allowed to talk to his fellow students but he sometimes caught glimpses of their downturned faces and couldn't help to think if his face too, had started to look lifeless as theirs and his eyes as empty.

Soon Dorian started to formulate a plan.

Slipping out wasn't easy, but by any means was it impossible either. The priests and the Templars were laughably predictable, and with the experience of years of _misconduct_ , it was quite possible to slip away after the evening bell had rung and to be back before the morning prayer. At first Dorian just spent the time wandering the streets and feeling _alive_ with sounds and the smells and the colours, but before long his adventures took a more purposeful aim.

Hence tonight, and hence _The Archon's Daughter._

The wine here isn't good -- it's in fact downright disgusting, but the wine isn't why Dorian has chosen this whore house in the elven slums. He leans back on his chair and surveys his environment -- it's getting close to midnight and the crowd is getting rowdy, but he is looking for something in particular. The madame has assured him that she has exactly what Dorian wants and he should just sit and wait, but it doesn't stop Dorian looking at the stairs and at anyone who descends.

Dorian orders more wine, downing another cup grunting with distaste, but it goes straight to his head, making it spin. An elf girl across the room smoking a hookah has been looking at him and when his eyes glide over her, she smiles but Dorian turns his head, not even trying to hide his grimace.

"You're not what I want." he mutters under his breath.

_Great, talking to yourself, drunk in a house of ill repute surrounded by the scum of Minrathous, oh father if you could only see your son now--_

Light touch on his shoulder wakes him up, and Dorian hadn't even realised he had dozed off. He lifts his head to see a silver haired elf, looking at him with his strange pale eyes.

"My lord," the elf says and smiles, and Dorian nods, hesitating a little. His heart is pounding hard.

"I thought... you'd be older," he says and the elf smiles wider.

"It's usually not a complaint around here, my lord" he says "But I assure you, I am of age."

Dorian nods again, he can feel himself blushing and hates himself for it. "Shall we, then." he says dryly, staggering a little - but the elf is there, steadying him.

"My room is just upstairs, can you make it, my lord?" the elf asks and Dorian waves with his hand, trying to compose himself.

"I'm not... that drunk," he swallows, detaching himself of the elf, trying to regain his dignity.

He follows the man up the stairs without looking around, it feels like all the eyes are on him watching him follow the whore and how transparent his wanton needs must be, but Dorian is beyond caring. When the door is closed Dorian leans on it, looking at the elf who has turned around, smiling that lopsided smile at him.

"My lord," the elf says "What is your wish?"

When there is no answer, the elf takes a few steps forward, touching Dorian's shoulder, the sliver of bare skin, then fingering a buckle on his robe.

"Shall I?" he asks and Dorian nods finally, his throat feels too tight for words.

The elf opens the buckle, slowly, watching Dorian with that little smirk of his, and when the robe starts falling away he touches the shoulder proper running his hand and then tongue across it, his breath warm on Dorian's skin. Dorian gasps, drawing breath through his teeth - glancing at the elf and then away and then back again. The elf's hands are moving again, getting more skin exposed and this time Dorian is helping him, anything to get more of that sweet mouth on his body.

When the robe is out of the way the elf drops to his knees in front of Dorian, looking up at him, still smiling.

"Like this, my lord?" The elf murmurs "You want this?" And his mouth is hot against the fabric of Dorian's pants, mouthing his cock and Dorian can't help but to moan at the sensation, the thought.

"Yes. Yes like that," Dorian croaks, his voice is betraying his lust just like his body, but he pushes those thoughts away because right now he can have what he wants, and not what he's told to want.

And then his thoughts scramble everywhere and nowhere as fingers unlace him and then that smile wraps around his cock.

"Ven-hedis," Dorian gasps, leaning heavily against the door and locking his knees, lest his legs give out.

The elf rubs his tongue under Dorian's cock and sucks, hands lightly on the his knees and Dorian's shaking hand goes to the silver hair, goading him on. His eyes are narrowing, watching, watching the elf's lips around his cock, watching it disappear into the elf's mouth.

Dorian's hips start moving, little involuntary jerks to the rhythm of the elf's movements, moans and low curses escaping as the elf sucks him in deeper. The elf's hands go on to Dorian's thighs -- then helping his mouth with his hand, gripping the base of Dorian's cock. He's sucking the head of Dorian's cock while his hand strokes the shaft, and Dorian groans as he can feel how his stomach tightens with lust, with _need_. Dorian moans again, louder this time and the elf's tongue rubbing his slit, pushing in almost to the point of pain but easing off just before Dorian flinches.

"Maker!" he groans, legs trembling "Don't stop!"

The elf pushes his mouth even deeper, burying his lips into Dorian's coarse hair and Dorian can feel the convulsions in the back of his mouth as the elf gags and it feels wrong and it feels right, and heavenly and Dorian can't stop moaning. And the mouth withdraws and pushes back and Dorian is so hard he can't see straight.

"Ah... ah will..." Dorian shudders when can't hold back any longer, he's teetering right on the edge and wants to push himself over it, hips moving now with more purpose.

The elf looks up, his pale eyes are looking at Dorian and he's not backing away, letting Dorian fuck his mouth for the final few thrusts.

"Oh--" Dorian gasps and then he can't hold on any longer, as he spills his seed deep into the waiting elf's mouth, his hips moving on their own.

Those seconds right after the orgasm leave Dorian's head wonderfully void of any thought. He blinks again to get the man on his knees in front of him to focus and he slowly uncurls his fingers to let go of the silver hair. Slowly enough that he can feel the silky texture between his fingers before he pulls his hand away, rubbing his fingers against his palm.

"I--" Dorian says forcing his voice under control again, but his voice dies as the elf slowly swallows around his cock and then pulls off, wiping his mouth with a palm of his hand.

That smile is dancing on his lips again "My lord," the elf says with a little nod, standing up slowly, picking up Dorian's robe handing it to him.

Dorian takes the robe without a word and puts it on, fastening the buckles with only slightly trembling fingers. And then he remembers, wincing a little "Ah..." he swallows and fumbles for his purse, giving the whore more than enough coin, judging from his expression.

"Next time, you can ask me by my name," the elf says, watching him.

"Your... name?" Dorian says, clearing his throat to feign aloofness.

"Demdaer," the man says "Ask for me and I'll be sure to make time for you."

Dorian nods. "Demdaer." He repeats. "I'll ask for you."

Door closed behind him, shame and disgust now gnawing his gut, Dorian doubts he'll be back.


	2. It's okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Mama, Papa, please forget the times  
> I wet my bed  
> I swear not to do it again  
> Please forgive the way I looked  
> when I was fourteen  
> I didn't know who I wanted to be 
>> 
>> Hey It's OK, It's OK  
> Cause I've found what I wanted
> 
>   
> _—Lilly Wood and the Prick, “Hey it’s ok”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve updated the tags a little, please check in case you have squeaks. Many of the tags become relevant in the next chapter.

The next night Dorian is back at _The Archon’s Daughter._

This time he sees Demdaer as soon as he walks in, the elf is leaning against the bar talking to another — well fuck, Dorian guesses it must be a customer. He frowns a touch thinking about turning back, but before he can decide on an action the madame is by his side.

“Demdaer is the one you want, my lord?” the woman asks and smiles a sickly sweet smile. Dorian forces the same in return.

“He is,” Dorian says, taking a coin from his purse pressing it into the woman’s sweaty palm “Now be a dear and make sure he knows I’m here.”

Dorian sits down waving at the barkeep to send him wine, but his eyes go back to Demdaer who is now joined at the bar by the madame, whispering into his ear. The elf cocks his head and nods, eyes scanning the room until they stop at Dorian and he smirks, looking pleased.

Wine arrives to the table the same time as Demdaer, who without hesitation slides next to Dorian on the bench, leaning into him.

“Wine, my lord?” He asks pouring some to Dorian’s cup without waiting for his nod.

Dorian lets his jaw relax, feeling the elf’s hand on his shoulder, his chest pressing against his arm, trying to push out the years of proper manners on how to act amongst the other Altus. _No_. Not here. Not ever again. He reaches for the cup and drinks with a grimace, and Demdaer laughs.

“Not to your usual standards, my lord?” the elf grins.

Dorian turns to him, and his face is so close now, those strange large pale eyes watching him. Close enough to— Dorian stops himself.

“It’s disgusting!” Dorian forces a laugh instead, and his face is burning red but more he drinks, less he cares.

The elf next to him feels good and despite Dorian’s self-conscious fears, nobody is watching. Encouraged, he pulls an arm around Demdaer, finding a long ear to nibble.

“You and me… upstairs…” Dorian says in a low voice, hoping it comes out more seducing than desperate.

The elf’s ear under Dorian’s lips twitches a little but Demdaer grins “Y’know your wish is my command, my lord…” he murmurs back.

Dorian empties the cup and he’s already feeling the effects as he stands up. The taste might not be what he’s used to but the effects are exactly what he was looking for. Demdaer is there hand on his arm, steadying him and Dorian swallows hard again.

“Upstairs,” he repeats, not looking at the other man.

He makes it without assistance this time, shoulders back and gaze forward, just like a proper Altus. Even if inside he’s in turmoil, there’s no excuse to show it to anyone else, at least not until the door is closed behind them. This time Demdaer pulls him further by the hand, towards the bed, wearing that goddamn smirk Dorian can’t decide is genuine or yet another mask.

But he lets the elf undress him again, and this time Dorian’s hands are exploring too… the elf’s hair is silky soft, his skin smooth to the touch and Dorian desires to see and feel more of him. Demdaer looks up at him while undressing, discarding his shirt, watching Dorian’s face as the mage moves his fingers along the elf’s skin. Ghosting the nipples makes the elf’s lips part silently, Dorian notices pleased, but then the elf is rolling his hips pushing his pants over his ass and further down and it’s not his face Dorian is looking at anymore.

Dorian stares, he can’t help it, and if he has problems controlling his eyes his hand seems to move on it’s own too - the elf has a nice cock, already stiffening but Dorian’s fingers are drawn under it where he can see two pearls one of each side of the head.

“Piercing?” Dorian says, eyes still on it, his mouth dry. The elf’s cock is hot and smooth to the touch, it jumps a little at Dorian’s touch and he can feel his cheeks warming.

“Yes, my lord…” Damdaer says “I have been told it’s… pleasurable…”

Dorian’s body betrays him again as he draws in a quick breath. Maker! To have that… He swallows and the elf raises an eyebrow.

“Is that… the way you want it, my lord?” his voice soft but with a hint of amusement “You wanna to experience _that_ sort of pleasure..?”

Dorian tries to bring his mouth to speak _no no no_ but his traitorous body says _yes_ and he nods, avoiding looking at the elf. Then he can feel Damdaer closer again, continuing to undress him, his robes falling away and then the man is pushing Dorian to his back, unlacing his pants… Dorian’s panting hard now, sharp breathes, eyes squeezed shut while the elf undresses him, pulling off his leathers, gently tugging on his smallclothes.

Dorian lifts his hips and rolls onto his stomach, and he’s naked with Damdaer massaging his buttocks.

“Lift your hips,” the elf says and Dorian can hear the missing honorific in the air between them.

Dorian considers getting up and leaving and paying the whore _nothing_ , but instead he scoots his knees under his hips, raising his ass for the other man. Damdaer reaches for something from the drawers, and the sweet smell of the oil makes Dorian’s stomach turn and he’s clenching every muscle of his body.

“Relax,” Demdaer hums, his hands are already slick as he squeezes Dorian’s ass, spreading the cheeks “You have to relax if you want me to do it…”

It’s not Dorian’s first time, not exactly, and he breathes out almost embarrassed because he knows how this works. Forcing his muscles to relax, forcing his breathing to calm down.

“That’s it,” the elf purrs softly “Just like that…” his slender fingers pressing against Dorian’s entrance and Dorian shivers but then pushes against the touch.

“Do it!” Dorian hisses quietly, the pit of his stomach feels like ice but his cock is on fire. His father’s voice is in his head and he wants that voice _gone_.

Damdaer doesn’t reply now, but his fingers work quicker, one, then two fingers pushing into Dorian. Dorian groans, breathing out faster, pulling in air through his nose - it’s not enough, not yet because he can still hear his father speaking.

“Harder!” Dorian hisses, squeezing his eyes shut and he can hear the elf shuffle closer.

Spreading of the cheeks, blunt pressure at his hole. The pressure is almost painful, then he feels the hardness of the piercing - and then the elf pushes his cock in. Dorian groans, in pain and pleasure, shame and joy.

“Harder!” he commands again, voice raspy, there’s nothing he wants more.

Damdaer obeys.

Fingers digging into Dorian’s hips the elf pushes in all the way with his balls gently slapping against Dorian’s ass, Demdaer is moaning now too and it makes Dorian’s cock so hard it’s hurts. He tries to shift so that he can touch himself but the elf is slamming into him again, this time _harder_ , like he was commanded and Dorian cries out. Feeling like he’s being split open he moans, fisting the sheets, mouth gaping trying to form words but he can barely even breathe.

Finally there’s nothing else in his head.

Just this, the hands on his hips, hard cock in his ass, thrusting in deep, his own cock heavy and weeping. Thrust after thrust, deeper and deeper — and when Dorian thinks he can’t take any more, Demdaer leans in closer and Dorian can feel the elf wrapping his fingers around Dorian’s cock. Dorian moans loudly, hips shaking.

“P-please!” escapes from his lips, oh how easily commands turns pleads when the circumstances are right.

Dorian’s mind blanks with the need to come, and his hips are now moving on their own. The elf doesn’t need to do more than squeeze and pull to make Dorian come with a loud whine. Demdaer moves for few more thrusts before coming to a halt, then slowly pulling half out. Dorian is shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm but he becomes dimly aware of the other man and the elf’s need for his own release. Demdaer’s hand on Dorian’s hips is quivering.

“Ah…” Dorian say because it’s all his mouth is capable of right now. He stretches his jaw and swallows, trying again. “It’s okay. You can. You can too.” _Kaffas_ , like a blushing child he can’t bring himself to use the proper words.

Demdaer pulls out carefully and Dorian whines, the pressure of the hard jewellery briefly against his stretched hole stings a little, but the feeling of emptiness inside him is worse. Dorian shivers as he rolls on the bed to his side, facing the elf now, curious to see. Demdaer is hard, a hand on his slick cock, his silvery white hair mussed and half on his face, pale eyes half closed.

“It’s. Okay.” Dorian croaks “I want to…” he breathes out “…I want to watch.”

Demdaer nods lightly and then his hand squeezes his cock harder, gritting his teeth as he starts to fist it. If he hadn’t just come, Dorian would surely get hard just from the sight of Demdaer’s head falling back and the slick noise of his fist moving impossibly fast, and the sound of his little gasps as Demdaer approaches his edge.

“Y-yes—“ Dorian whines quietly, moving closer and his hand flies to touch the elf’s knee before he can think.

Demdaer comes, and that loss of control, that crack in his smooth mask makes him even more beautiful. Dorian tastes the elf’s salty come on his lips — conscious or not, he’s brought his face just inches away from Demdaer’s cock and he doesn’t care anymore, he does what feels most natural to him and takes he elf to his mouth. Taste of come is… not what he expected — it’s a little strange, but not unpleasant. Dorian rubs his tongue against the veins underneath Demdaer’s cock and is rewarded with a soft gasp so he does is again. This time Dorian runs his tongue along the bar connecting the two pearls on the elf’s piercing, listening to how the Demdaer’s breathing stops for a second. The sounds are perhaps the best thing he’s heard in months so Dorian doesn’t stop, and is rewarded with many more.

When he finally pulls away, rolling to his back on the bed Dorian can’t help his grin.This strange floating sensation is not just from the wine and his orgasm, it’s also because he’s made someone else feel good and he has a hard time to remember the last time that has happened. Demdaer touches Dorian’s hair very gently but Dorian doesn’t open his eyes, he allows himself a few more moments inside his head.

Somehow, the money exchanging hands less awkward this time. Demdaer lays naked and stretched out on the bed resting on his arm, watching Dorian get dressed. Looking at his purse gives Dorian some time to think what to say, but finally he gets the coins out, forcing himself to look at the elf.

"Thank you," he says at last, deciding that manners never did hurt.

Demdaer nods a little, taking the coin.

"Pleasure is pleasure..." he says slowly "No matter how you receive it." The elf is a little hesitant as if he's not sure if he's crossing a line.

Dorian shuffles his feet, but then sits back down on the side bed, back towards Demdaer.

"Nobody here gonna judge you for it," Demdaer says, almost like he's read Dorian's thoughts. "You come here... and that's how it'll be."

“Thank you,” Dorian says again and means it.

He makes it back just before the Revered Father wakes up. As Dorian kneels down for morning prayers he feels a strange calmness as the odd sensation from earlier expands in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demdaer’s piercing is a frenum piercing with a bar, feel free to google it but it’s definitely NSFW.


	3. What's right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > It's hard for me to say what's right  
> When all I wanna do is wrong
> 
> _Prince - Get off_

Not long after, Dorian slipped out of Order of Argent for the last time, without looking back, and took up a room at _The Archon’s Daughter_. 

He wakes up around noon with the whores and the kitchen maids — full service is not included in the price of his room so he makes his way downstairs and eats his breakfast of simple bread, cheese and diluted wine outside, watching the alienage wake up from it’s slumber. He sees slaves and servants running on their masters’ errands, street urchins gathering full of bluster and bravado, and beggars asking for coin. Dorian ignores most of them, giving a shake of a head to others — he’s not here to get attention but to be left alone, and even though he has enough coin from his father to last him awhile there’s no reason to draw attention to it.

But despite his best attempts, blending in is not easy for a man like Dorian Pavus. He’s hardly the only human in the slums but his breeding is hard to hide: aside his looks, his phrase of speech and unconscious mannerisms give him aways as Altus far too easily. He’s saved by Demdaer who emerges just as Dorian gets surrounded by a group of dirty elven kids who are about to steal rest of his breakfast and clean out his pockets — Demdaer picks up the oldest of the girls by her pointed ear, pinching and shaking, until the girl’s hissing and scratching has turned into apologetic sobbing while the group of children scatter.

Dorian is half way standing, watching the elf and hesitating a moment before gesturing Demdaer to join him for the breakfast. All of their encounters so far have been in the dim light of the oil lamps and while words exchanged have never gone beyond simple instructions or pleads for more pleasure and Dorian isn’t sure what to expect when there’s no coin involved. Demdaer sits down with a nod, his posture relaxed and casual as he leans his chair against the wall.

“You stand out, my lord.” He says simply “If you wanna hide I’d suggest at least a change of clothes.”

Dorian watches him with a side glance. There’s no obvious agenda or accusation in the man’s voice so Dorian gives him a curt nod. 

“I don’t want any trouble,” Dorian says quietly.

“I can provide that stuff, my lord,” Demdaer says “There’s no hiding your face—“ he waves his hand with a little smile “—but at least different garb will make the strays stay away until you open your mouth.”

And when Dorian’s hands go for his purse Demdaer shakes his head quickly, hand going to Dorian’s wrist “Not here my lord, somebody’s always watching and flashing that coin around won’t be missed.” His smile is easy but his hand on Dorian’s wrist is firm. “Tonight, you can pay.” 

Dorian wants to pull his hand away but doesn’t. “Tonight, then,” he agrees, secretly happy that his voice stays even.

Slowly Demdaer lets go of Dorian’s hand and the pause gives Dorian another longer glance of the elf. The man is no doubt handsome, but in the bright light Dorian can see that he’s indeed not as young as he’d originally thought. He’s Dorian’s age, maybe even slightly older, and while Dorian has always had the advantage of the best grooming available to him, the man next to him has signs of a harder life on his face. Thin lines around his mouth that disappear when he smiles, and a faint scar on his eyebrow tell stories of completely different struggle to what Dorian has gone through.

He entertains no illusions that Demdaer is doing this for anything more than money, but at this moment Dorian’s happy about the company. The wine is still disgusting but it slowly grows on him, and the sun on his face is still pleasantly warm before the afternoon heat. The moment ends too soon when other whores spill out from _The Daughter_ , and a red-headed elf girl pulls Demdaer away by the arm. Dorian watches them walk away, feeling an uncomfortable jealous twinge at their easy camaraderie as they disappear out of sight, the red-headed girl clearly teasing Demdaer about something. Wine still buzzing in his ears, Dorian climbs the stairs to his small room and passes out on the bed.

It’s early evening when he wakes up, and he finds a pile of new clothes left on the chair next to his bed. Dorian examines them curious finding them used and simple, but clean, and he picks out a red shirt with simple black pants. Because buckling up his boots just to go downstairs (and then back upstairs, he reminds himself) seems like overkill he leaves them, in favour of simple leather slippers he found under the pile of clothes. His room has no mirror save a little hand mirror at the small desk, but it’s enough to make sure he looks—

Dorian closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in, brow knitting with annoyance. _Why_ is he dressing up anyway? To please a whore who has never played hard to get and never will as long as he gets Dorian’s coin in his hand. He puts the mirror away, fingers curling in a nervous manner that he can’t quite shake. 

But Dorian needn't worry, Demdaer makes it seem like the most natural thing in the world. Dorian meets the elf downstairs, and Demdaer raises an eyebrow when he sees Dorian in his new clothes.

"Very nice," Demdaer smiles and Dorian's cheeks feel hot. "My lord."

Demdaer waves at the barkeep for a bottle of wine, and takes it with two cups.

"Let's go," he says, nodding towards upstairs. “Unless—“ he waves his hand vaguely towards to crowd but Dorian shakes his head.

“Upstairs is good,” he says and together they climb the stairs once again.

Dorian drinks the wine while Demdaer hums to himself, eyes half closed, dancing to the muffled music Dorian can barely hear from downstairs. Soon clothes are discarded and Demdaer climbs on the bed with Dorian, straddling his thighs.

“Shall we try something new..?” Demdaer murmurs, leaning to stroke Dorian’s cock.

“Something… new?” Dorian breathes, hand lightly on Demdaer’s shoulder.

Demdaer lets go of Dorian’s cock and reaches for something from the dresser beside the bed. It turns out to be a strip of leather, about as wide as a finger, with a small buckle. Dorian looks at Demdaer questioningly and the elf smiles.

“I’ll show you,” he says, sliding to the floor between Dorian’s legs.

But instead of an explanation, Demdaer takes Dorian’s cock into his mouth, sucking and stroking him slowly to full hardness. And only then does he take the strip of leather out again, and while Dorian watches he wraps it around Dorian’s balls then his cock, tightening it closed with a buckle. Dorian’s cock is now standing in full attention and he breathes out as he can feel the blood flow restrained, an odd — and not unpleasant — tingling sensation is spreading on his cock.

“Hmm?” Demdaer raises his eyebrows, then licking Dorian’s cock again.

It feels… even better and Dorian breathes out, nodding. Demdaer grins and stands up, pushing Dorian onto his back on the bed. He props Dorian up pillows so that he can see better, and when Demdaer starts to slowly fuck him Dorian can’t tear his eyes away from the sight. His engorged cock slapping slowly against his stomach, while Demdaer’s longer but more slender cock slides in, slick with oil.

Demdaer slowly picks up speed, thrusting deeper and faster, until finally Dorian is moaning aloud. Demdaer is fucking and stroking him, all the while Dorian’s cock feels impossibly hot and hard but the strap is making it difficult for him to get past the edge. Dorian groans in frustration and Demdaer sees it, guiding Dorian’s hand to his own cock with a breathless grin. Dorian grips his cock with a firm squeeze but he’s still unable to climax, until he feels Demdaer’s slick fingers on the buckle of the strap.

“Ready?” Demdaer rasps and releases the buckle.

Blood flow returning is almost painful, but Dorian can finally bring himself to a mind-blowing orgasm with his final stroke. Demdaer follows him after few thrusts, but quickly pulls out, gasping as he spills on Dorian’s thigh, eyes squeezed shut and mouth silently gaping.

That night Dorian sleeps better than he has in years.

***

Demdaer introduces Dorian to Sylvar, another elf working at _The Archon's Daughter_. Dorian is hesitant but Demdaer chuckles and tells him in a low voice about unexplored pleasures unattainable by two bodies.

Sylvar is smaller in stature with light brown wispy hair and a wicked grin, and his grip is surprisingly strong and his fingers nimble. He pins Dorian easily on the bed with his knees, and Demdaer sucks Dorian with a force that feels like Dorian's brain is going to turn into liquid and come out of his cock. Sylvar laughs and makes Dorian suck his own cock while leaning on the headboard of the large bed.

Sylvar introduces playfulness to the sex Dorian has never experienced: he teases Dorian mischievously and mercilessly, sucks and bites and laughs at Dorian when he’s tied down and whimpering, but equally gives in to Dorian’s teasing when the roles are reversed. Dorian learns to listen to his moans, how they change when Dorian penetrates him with his fingers, and finally with his cock while Demdaer pulls the smaller elf’s cheeks apart for him, whispering obscene praises. 

Dorian learns to suck cock and love it, he learns to beg and love the rewards. He learns to love rope burns on his wrists and bruises on his hips, and how the sting of a flogger turns to pure pleasure when combined with a skilful mouth on his cock. Behind the closed doors he learns to push his shame and his anxiety out of his mind to concentrate on the bodies moving below and on top of him, and when he’s running out of breath and his own moans fill his ears it’s not that hard.

***

Another night Sylvar brings a small leather pack with him and puts it on the bed with a big grin.

"I reckon it’s time to decorate you, m’lord..." he says rolling the packet open revealing a set of needles and assorted jewellery.

Dorian pulls in a sharp breath but both the elves have seen him admire Demdaer’s piercing many times. Sylvar cups Dorian’s cock that is quickly hardening in his hand, and Demdaer takes it as consent, starting to uncoil the rope while grinning. They tie Dorian's hands to the bedposts of the large bed and Demdaer straddles his legs, starting to stroke Dorian's cock as Sylvar sits next to him, showing different jewellery to Dorian.

"A bar?" Sylvar says cocking his head and then shaking it "No, I think a ring would suit you better."

He places the piece of jewellery against Dorian's nipple and the mage can't help but to breathe out at the touch of the cool metal. "And gold, definitely gold," Sylvar grins looking at Demdaer who nods "Goes so well with your skin tone.”

The elf leans in to lick and the suck the nipple and though obstructed by the sight Dorian can feel Demdaer's mouth on his cock. He gasps, trying to arch into those mouths but the ropes keep him in place. Sylvar grins again, moving aside a little because he know Dorian likes to watch, while he goes back into his kit, now picking the right sized needle. Demdaer lifts his head up going back to using his fist, eyes on Dorian.

"It will hurt," Sylvar warns, fingers ghosting Dorian's nipple. "Are you ready, m’lord? You'll be ever so pretty..." Voice purring, Dorian can see the excitement and lust in his eyes.

Dorian breathes out and Demdaer's fist tightens, twisting around his cock. Dorian nods, not trusting his mouth to form the words.

The pain is sharp, sharper than he thought it would be, and— _ahh_ , exquisite. It doesn't last for more than a second and then Sylvar has pushed the ring through. The following pain is duller making Dorian gasp and moan as the pain throbs from his nipple to his chest. After Sylvar has secured the ring with a golden ball with a red stone embedded into it he lets go, sitting back on his heels.

"Ah—“ he grins, obviously quite satisfied "Even better than I thought!"

Dorian's body trembles with the pain while his vision goes blurry from the tears in his eyes, but he breathes out, pulling on the restrains letting pain on his wrists take the mind off the pain on his throbbing nipple. He can feel the elves shifting on the bed , the pair moving between his legs and he can feel both mouths on his cock. Dorian moans loudly, pulling on the rope again but they hold while he blinks desperately trying to regain his vision.

The sight that greets him makes him forget the pain. Demdaer is kissing Sylvar with Dorian’s cock between their mouths, licking around it, fingers intertwining around it, stroking. Dorian wonders, not for the first time, what exactly the elves’ relationship is but then his mind goes blank as he feels fingers sliding in. They’re doing everything in unison now, two sets of mouths and tongues, two sets of fingers and all Dorian can do is stare and pull on the ropes. He longs to touch them, to move his hips but all he manages is to push up a few inches, back muscles straining.

“P-please,” he begs “I need more—“

Sylvar grins at him and starts sucking, head bobbing fast, while Demdaer gets more oil and starts fucking Dorian with his fingers just as hard as Sylvar sucks him. The rhythm doesn’t give Dorian much choice and he comes fast and hard, struggling against his bindings. Afterwards the ropes are loosened and Dorian leans on the headboard while watching Demdaer fuck Sylvar nice and hard until they both reach their orgasms, collapsing on the bed panting. 

And even though Dorian is satiated bodily, he feels a sting watching the two elves and their wordless intimacy, knowing he won’t be truly satisfied until he finds the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should read as “sexual healing and where Dorian comes to accept himself and his desires”, but really - it is just my pure indulgence to write a porn about Dorian with elven whores.


	4. Prayer for the whores

”Are you... Dorian Pavus?"

The question takes a moment to register. Dorian is half sitting, half laying on the cushioned sofa in one of the more secluded corners of _The Archon's Daughter_. Sylvar is holding the hookah pipe for him with a fascinated smile, no doubt imagining Dorian's lips sucking something completely different than the pipe. Dorian responds to the stare by slowly letting the mouthpiece slide out of his mouth, giving it a slow lick. Sylvan laughs as Dorian holds the smoke in his lungs for few more moments before letting it trickle out of his nostrils, and slowly the words sink in.

No one has called him by his name — his full name — for months now, not since he arrived at _The Daughter_ , and Dorian turns his head to look at Demdaer. Demdaer is laying half on top of him, fingers lazily stroking Dorian's naked side, and it wasn't him who spoke, but he’s is looking at Dorian with a curious expression that he can't quite read.

"Dorian Pavus?" the voice says again.

No one has grabbed him yet, so it's not the Imperial Templars.

He doesn't recognise the voice either so it's not his father — not that his father would ever personally step his foot in an establishment like _The Archon's Daughter_ , not even to retrieve his wayward son. But since no one is touching him and it's a question, it's probably not one of his father’s retainers either.

So, something new.

Dorian closes his eyes for a few seconds before rolling to his back, this allows Demdaer to slide his hand up Dorian's chest and he flicks the golden ring on Dorian's nipple. Dorian awards him a quick distracted smile before he finally opens his eyes to see who is calling his name.

The man is undoubtedly a Magister. Maybe around his father's age, light brown hair and an intelligent face, with a young elven girl under his arm. He's watching Dorian with sharp eyes, studying the scene and then him.

"I don't think I've had the pleasure," Dorian says flippantly turning back to look at Demdaer who is not leaving his nipple alone, now crawling closer to suck on it.

The man chuckles a little. "Looks like you've had plenty of pleasure," he says but Dorian has closed his eyes again. Sylvar had convinced him to try the hookah tonight, and the fruity tobacco laced with deep mushroom makes everything pleasantly slow. 

"Go away," he says in a voice he hopes comes out bored "Tell my father I'm not going back."

Dorian can feel Sylvar moving closer too with the pipe, he feels the mouthpiece on his lips and he tilts his head slightly to suck on it, filling his lungs with the fragrant smoke.

"Your father didn't send me," the man says “Though we are acquainted. I am Gereon Alexius."

Dorian doesn't immediately answer, but eventually he lets the smoke out again, enjoying the dizzy feeling it gives him.

"Good for you," he says and then: "Excuse me if I don't shake your hand... but I have taken a new vow of never to touch anything my father has touched."

To his surprise Alexius laughs. "Does that include his coin, then?" he asks, it's not unkind but astute.

Dorian opens his eyes, looking at the man again. He can feel Sylvar move, sliding onto the floor between Dorian’s legs, and he can’t help it but the let out a little sigh as he feels the elf’s hand find his cock, rubbing it through the thin fabric of his pants. Demdaer is sucking on his nipple, grinding his own erection slowly against Dorian’s hip.

“You came here to enjoy yourself, no?” Dorian says, a little breathless “Why don’t you do that and join us, then…”

The elven girl under Alexius’ arm smiles and wraps an arm around him, but the Magister removes it and steps closer to Dorian.

“Dorian, I think we should talk,” he says calmly, placing a hand on Dorian’s bare arm.

Dorian grins and rolls his hips to Sylvar’s hand “If you don’t want your girl, how about you try my mouth…” he says and laughs at the older man’s expression “My… companions tell me I’m getting quite good with it.”

The hand around his arm tightens as Alexius starts pulling him up “Dorian,” he says more seriously, more commanding “We need to talk.”

Demdaer’s hips have stopped now, both him and Sylvar are frozen in place, watching.

Dorian tries to pull his arm away but the older man’s grip holds “My carriage is outside,” Alexius says “Just talk — I promise.”

When Dorian doesn't say anything, Alexius' expression softens. "I have a son... little younger than you,” he says kindly "If someone found him, like this, I would hope they would take him aside to make sure he's not doing anything he will regret..."

***

Dorian sits down in Alexius' carriage, watching the old man with suspicion, half expecting the carriage to start moving, and he’s ready to move.

"I really don't think there's much you can say," Dorian says staring at Alexius, chin defiantly raised.

Alexius is silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"I've heard about you.” he says finally and Dorian scoffs.

"No doubt you have," he says dryly.

"Your father is a friend of mine, though we haven't seen each other for a long while. And you are wrong, we have met, but I don’t expect you to remember much as you could barely walk then.” Alexius says and Dorian looks away. “Regardless, your father and I keep in touch through letters."

"I wish I could say the same!" Dorian snaps “He hasn't written me once since he last sent me away. But then again, my father has grown rather fond of not seeing me.”

"Order of Argent?" Alexius asks and Dorian nods curtly, still not turning to look at him.

"I see," Alexius says thoughtfully "Well I can see how that would be boring for someone like you."

Dorian frowns a little surprised. "Boring is rather a mild word for it," he scoffs "They must be the only Circle in Tevinter who think studying the Chant is more important than, I don' know, studying _magic_!"

There’s a long pause where Alexius considers his words carefully. The young man in front of him is agitated despite his drugged out state, and Alexius knows he could blow this chance he has.

"I understand that you haven't chosen your specialisation yet," Alexius says finally.

Dorian nods a little. "It's hard when one doesn't stay in the same place for a long time." he says indignantly.

"How about if I offered you mine?" Alexius says carefully. "I haven't had an apprentice for awhile, but I always enjoyed it."

Dorian looks at him sharply. "I don't need your pity.” he says.

"It's not about pity," Alexius says seriously. "I have enough pride in my name that I wouldn't ever take someone to my House I wouldn't deem worthy."

Dorian stares at him for a moment, trying to assess what Alexius is saying but the deep mushroom makes everything slow. "What is your specialisation?" he asks finally.

"Necromancy." Alexius says, waiting for a reaction but he doesn't get one.

"Necromancy?" Dorian asks after a moment, voice neutral.

"It may not be the most fashionable thing in the court right now, but I have a feeling you don't care about that." Alexius shrugs his shoulders a little. "But it is one of the oldest forms of magic, and House of Alexius comes from a long and respectable line of necromancers."

Dorian doesn't say anything at first. "Necromancy." he repeats then and his lips curve up a touch. "That would not be to my father's liking."

Alexius gives a non-committal shrug. “But it’s not _his_ choice, and it's no worse than any other option. Nor is it simple or easy, communing with the spirits will require years of discipline and study to learn. Controlling them, even more. Meanwhile you would be living with me and my family, and there would not be much free time."

Dorian nods a little, suddenly feeling elated. Hopeful? It doesn't sound bad at all.

"But—“ Alexius says lifting a finger in a warning, "This is not a last chance ultimatum or something to be taken up frivolously only to be discarded on another whim. You need to want it. You need to be serious about it or the deal is off."

Dorian nods again, this time more certain.

"In return, I will treat you with respect, as a colleague." Alexius says. "My library will be at your full disposal, of course. One of the finest in Asariel.”

“Then there’s one thing _you_ need to understand." Dorian says grimly. "I won't change. What you saw—“ he hesitates but then looks Alexius straight in the eyes "He knows, my father knows— and he doesn't approve as you might guess, though I doubt he has informed you of _that_ in his letters. In fact, he has paid handsome amounts for people not to know over the years."

Alexius nods a little "I'm not expecting you to change," he says "Just... Discretion, while living under my roof.”

There's a hint of embarrassment there, and Dorian thinks back on how they met half an hour earlier. He doesn't know what kind of things Alexius does discreetly in _The Archon's Daughter_ but maybe the man understands him better than he originally thought. Dorian scoffs softly but then he nods. It's not quite acceptance but it's... something.

"I won't change," he repeats, and so it is agreed.

***

Dorian comes back inside, skin prickled with goosebumps after the cold night air. The noise, smells and heat of _The Daughter_ hit him like a wall, and he swallows hard, asking himself when did they become so familiar and comforting. Demdaer and Sylvar sit at the bar, and both of their eyes are on him as soon he enters. Dorian forces himself to acknowledge them with a nod, but he heads upstairs, not to them.

Upstairs the noises are more muffled, and Dorian can feel his heart beating faster as he goes along the long corridor into his little room. He didn't bring much so there isn't much to take with him, but Dorian lays out his own clothes on the bed and just stands there looking at them for awhile. Then he starts slowly undressing, and it feels like shedding this skin he has gotten so comfortable with in the past months.

"So... you're leaving?"

Dorian looks up startled, he had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard Demdaer come in. He turns his head to look away, failing to find the words to explain. He doesn't even know what he owes Demdaer, after all the man has never spent a night with him without a payment. Slave and a whore, he tries to tell himself but even without saying it aloud he knows it’s not true.

"I'm afraid duty calls," Dorian says plainly, pulling on his boots but Demdaer kneels in front of him, pushing his hands away starting to fasten the buckles for him.

"Let me, my lord..." he says, and Dorian feels the stab in his gut. Demdaer hasn't called him that for awhile now except to tease when he wants Dorian to beg, and Dorian can't stop his hand from going to the elf's hair.

"Demdaer," he whispers but the elf looks up at him smiling.

"Missing all those fancy parties I bet, my lord," he says "I knew you'd get bored of us sooner or later."

Dorian breathes out fast. "I was never bored," he says quietly "Maker, never bored." And he pauses, tracing a finger along the little scar on the other man's eyebrow. "Maybe you could—“

But Demdaer takes his hand firmly "No." he says looking Dorian straight in the eyes "It is better that I don't."

"I could take you —" Dorian tries again and Demdaer shakes his head.

"Take me away from all of this? As your personal slave?" he asks " _This_ is all I can do, all I’ve ever done and no matter how you treat me when we're alone we’ll never be equals.” Demdaer doesn’t look away so Dorian can’t either. “I can't read or write, and I would make a horrible man servant..." Demdaer smirks at him, Dorian can almost see the pain behind the words. "And chaining me to your bed would really just be another scandal waiting to happen."

Dorian finally closes his eyes, pain in his chest is real but he knows Demdaer is right.

"I appreciate the thought, I really do..." Demdaer whispers, closer now and Dorian can feel the elf's breath on his face "Don't you think I'm not tempted. To see all the wonders of the Gilded Quarter?" and then his laughter is bitter "But the best thing… best thing for _you_ … is to just forget about _The Daughter._ ”

Dorian swallows, pulling the other man close until they rest their foreheads together.

"Thank you," he whispers, there is so much he wants to say but words are stuck in his throat so he just repeats what he’s already said so many times. "Thank you. For everything."

They stay like that for few moments but no more words are exchanged. Eventually Dorian gets up, now dressed again like an Altus, and he offers more coin to Demdaer who accepts it with his lopsided smirk.

"And for Sylvar," Dorian adds with more coin, hesitating. "Tell him—“ his hand goes to his pierced nipple, now covered by his robe. Vivid image of Sylvar's breathless grin admiring his handiwork flashes in his mind and he breathes out.

Neither of them says anything more. Dorian descends the stairs for the last time, and outside in the darkness he finally breathes in.

Alexius is waiting for him, and under his breath Dorian says a prayer for the whores before stepping into the carriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m fascinated by Dorian’s and Alexius’ relationship and what exactly does Alexius say to get Dorian out of his flunk - this was by far the most difficult part to write so I hope if works for you.
> 
> Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, I'd really love to hear from you.


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